


What You Need

by xxenjoy



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Implied Sexual Content, Jealous Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Pining, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:01:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23382007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxenjoy/pseuds/xxenjoy
Summary: It feels like they've been travelling for weeks - and maybe they have. They've been making good money - well, Geralt has been making good money - taking contracts and selling what he can to mages and alchemists along the way. It's been steady going so Jaskier can't complain and Geralt has even been accepting of - maybe even appreciative of - his singing around the fire at night. Jaskier is content, but there's an itch under his skin that begs to be scratched.He wants to be taken, to be pressed into soft furs and fucked until he can't see straight. One night after too much wine, he nearly considers asking Geralt to help him out, but he's not desperate enough yet to risk their already tenuous friendship.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion/Other(s)
Comments: 48
Kudos: 939
Collections: these bitches gay! good for them!!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was going to be a oneshot, but Tumblr asked for more, and here we are. 
> 
> E rating applies to chapter 2 and onward.

It feels like they've been travelling for weeks - and maybe they have. They've been making good money - well, Geralt has been making good money - taking contracts and selling what he can to mages and alchemists along the way. It's been steady going so Jaskier can't complain and Geralt has even been accepting of - maybe even appreciative of - his singing around the fire at night. Jaskier is content, but there's an itch under his skin that begs to be scratched. 

He's tried to deal with it alone but no amount of privacy or fine scented oils are doing the job. He aches for touch and intimacy and traveling back roads with an emotionally stunted Witcher isn't helping matters. That's not fair; it's not Geralt's fault, he never asked Jaskier to come with him and he never asked him to fall in love - it just happened. 

And so Jaskier keeps going, hoping that Geralt will tire of sleeping on the ground and rent them a room or two for the night. But he doesn't. So Jaskier continues to try and satisfy himself at night when Geralt has wandered away or in the early mornings when he's still asleep. Nothing he does is enough and he's coming to realize that this is a need he can’t satisfy on his own. 

He wants to be taken, to be pressed into soft furs and fucked until he can't see straight. One night after too much wine, he nearly considers asking Geralt to help him out, but he's not desperate enough yet to risk their already tenuous friendship. After Geralt falls asleep that night, Jaskier wanders away from their camp with a bottle of oil he borrowed from Geralt's bag. He gets down on his knees, pushes his trousers down out of the way and gets to it. His fingers aren't nearly long or thick enough to be wholly satisfying, but it's better than it has been. He comes with a soft groan, praying that he's far enough away and quiet enough that Geralt doesn't hear him. 

When Geralt wakes in the morning, he doesn't seem aware of Jaskier's nightly excursion and so Jaskier continues as normal. And then he announces that they're heading into town. 

It comes as a surprise, but Geralt took down a group of drowners yesterday and he's been hauling their parts around since. It's not a stretch that he would be eager to be rid of them, Jaskier certainly is. And if he can rustle up some company for the evening, all the better for it. 

His spirits brighten as they are out that day and he doesn't even complain about the stench of the drowner brains. Geralt notices, but he doesn't say anything about it. He's probably looking forward to a hot bath, Jaskier surmises and he regrets that he won't be around to assist him, but it's better for both of them in the long run that Jaskier gets laid tonight. 

As soon as they get to town, Jaskier offers to rent them a room and leaves Geralt to tending to Roach and ridding himself of his monster parts. He finds the inn with little trouble and approaches the innkeeper with a friendly smile. He gets the same in return and briefly considers propositioning the man once he's paid for his room. He’s a little older than his usual partners, but he has a kind smile and warm eyes. And Jaskier isn't picky right at this moment. 

But once he's paid for the room a woman comes out from behind him and the innkeeper tells him his wife will show him to his room. He spares a quick though for bedding them both, then puts all suggestive thoughts out of his mind. Geralt might even be proud of him, as long as he didn’t know Jaskier’s true intentions. 

Jaskier thanks them both kindly and when he gets to the room, he sets his things down and arranges a bath with the innkeeper's wife. He might be leaving him for a couple of hours, but he can still assure Geralt is comfortable. There's a nagging feeling of regret, as he leaves the room, but he needs this and Geralt doesn't deserve his bad mood because of it. 

The main hall is quiet in the afternoon, unsurprisingly, so Jaskier sits himself in a corner and picks at his lute. He earns himself a couple of spectators, but they're there to eat and move on when they're finished. He sees when Geralt shows up and offers a quick wave and a smile before the Witcher disappears upstairs.

People start flooding in just before supper and the innkeeper offers to reimburse Jaskier for their room if he plays for a little while. Jaskier takes him up on his offer and within the hour, he's gathered a crowd. More than one of them offers to take him to bed, but Jaskier has his eye on a guy in the back. He's built like a soldier and Jaskier can't keep his eyes off of him, fantasizing about all the ways he could hold him down and push him around. And that’s just what he needs tonight. 

When he finishes his set, Jaskier orders a beer from the innkeeper and saunters toward the back of the inn. He gets a look from the soldier, glancing up at him from under dark lashes and Jaskier offers him his most charming smile. 

It takes him all of five minutes to be carried upstairs and manhandled into bed. They’re in the room right next to Geralt's, but Jaskier ignores that fact for the time being, his mind and body preoccupied with more pressing matters. 

In the morning, Jaskier feels incredible. He's needed this for so damn long and he feels loose and a little dopey after an enthusiastic round two this morning. He's cheery and smiling when he finds Geralt out at the stables. 

Geralt is neither.

He doesn't even look up as Jaskier approaches, which he puts down to his focus, but it doesn't get any better. Jaskier tries to cheer him up, but all his attempts fail and he feels even worse about ducking out on him last night. 

"Geralt, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," he grunts, "let's go."

Jaskier sighs and relents, following after him. He doesn't give up though, checking in every so often to see if Geralt is willing to open up and tell him what's bothering him. He's not under any delusions; he knows Geralt isn't upset because he was gone last night, but he can't help feeling guilty about it all the same. He worries about him because Geralt usually dwells on things quietly, without letting Jaskier know something's wrong. This is different. 

They're just outside of town when Jaskier tries again, asking where they're headed. Geralt just grunts in response and Jaskier frowns, pausing as Geralt continues on ahead of him. His mind goes in a dozen different directions, trying to figure out what could have happened in the few hours they were separated that has Geralt in such a bad mood. 

"Geralt-"

"We need to keep going."

_Right_ , Jaskier thinks. He doesn't say another word until they've stopped for the night. 

The last thing he wants is to make things worse for an already grouchy Witcher, so he shuts up and follows along behind. When they do stop for the night, he turns in early, ready to be done with this day and move on to the next. His good mood has been gone for hours and he's ready to be done with today. 

Apparently, life has other ideas. 

It has to be a few hours past midnight when he wakes up to the sound of soft conversation. Only after listening for a moment he realizes it's one-sided and the anxiousness that crept into him settles. It's Geralt he realizes, now that he can hear, and he's talking to Roach. Jaskier can't quite understand what he's saying, but his voice is rough, frustrated and he knows that tone is never aimed _at_ Roach. 

Concerned, Jaskier pushes himself up from his bedroll as quietly as he can and tries to listen in. The fire has burnt low so the only sounds are those of insects and other woodland creatures going about their nightly routine. It still hinders Jaskier's hearing. He knows he shouldn't even try; Geralt deserves his privacy and Jaskier shouldn’t intrude upon that. But it sounds like Geralt is talking through something. With Roach. True, Roach can't talk back, not really, and she can't go telling anyone else about it. Jaskier's heart sinks knowing whatever it is, Geralt doesn't trust him enough to talk about it. 

Or maybe this was something he wanted to talk about last night and Jaskier was too busy wanting sex to realize it. He _had_ made it his mission to all but avoid Geralt last night. Maybe he should have just explained himself. But how do you explain to your best friend that you just really need to get fucked - especially when you'd rather _he_ was the one doing it. 

_Fuck_ , he thinks, maybe he made a mistake. 

Then he hears his own name and he's sure of it, but his heart beat drowns out the sound of anything else Geralt says. Jaskier needs to know now, so he gets up and makes his way over, careful to let Geralt know that he's coming. He sits down next to him and Geralt doesn't move. 

"Is everything okay, Geralt?" He doesn't get a response and he nods. "I'm sorry if I've done something." he says and when Geralt remains still, he relents. "Right." 

Jaskier pushes himself back to his feet and there's nothing left to do but walk away. As he turns back toward the camp, his heart is heavy with guilt, both for not being able to help and for whatever part he might have played in Geralt's misery. He lays himself back down, facing up to the sky and shuts his eyes. Back from the direction he came, there’s a muttered “ _fuck_ ” and when Jaskier opens his eyes again, Geralt is standing above him. He doesn't know what to expect because Geralt doesn't look pleased, but he keeps his mouth shut. 

"Where were you last night?" Geralt asks but Jaskier can tell by the way he averts his eyes that he knows exactly where he was. 

"I was with someone. A man from the inn." Geralt clenches his jaw. "I'm sorry I wasn't there to help you, but I have needs, Geralt. I can't just go wandering for weeks on end without-"

"I can bathe myself Jaskier."

_Then what?_ He thinks, if that's not the problem, then- 

"Geralt-?"

"Mm?"

"Are you jealous?" He nearly winces as he says it, expecting a bad reaction, but Geralt just falls silent. Jaskier's mind whirls in the quiet that follows, trying to piece together the events of last night because Geralt couldn't possibly be jealous of him. 

Geralt sits down next to him and when he speaks again, his voice is quiet and even. "I could hear you," he says, "all night."

"Ah."

"It was _unsettling_."

"Unsettling?" Jaskier asks, forcing the word out with some difficulty. 

"Hmm. Two nights ago I heard you sneak away, I was worried, so I followed you. You touched yourself and it was my name on your lips and then last night-" 

Jaskier's face grows hot, the flush creeping up to the tips of his ears and he's so horrified at the thought that Geralt heard him that he barely registers what he's saying. He doesn't remember saying his name that night, but it wouldn't be unusual, he spends so much time thinking about Geralt that it's hard to discern sometimes. 

"Come here," he says quietly, shifting backward to make space. Pushing aside his own discomfort, he pulls Geralt down next to him, surprised at how easily he submits. Geralt settles next to him, his shoulders tense. 

"You shouldn't worry about me," Jaskier breathes and Geralt turns onto his side, away from him. 

"Hmm."

Jaskier mimics his movement, slipping up against Geralt's back and arranging his blanket so it covers them both. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I needed something I couldn't ask you for, that's all." He slides a hand up Geralt's arm, noting the way his shoulders loosen a little with the touch. "I'm yours Geralt, however you'll have me. I'll always return to you."

"Hmm." 

Alright. He was hoping for more than that, but he'll take it. Then Geralt shifts against him, reaches back and pulls Jaskier's arm around him. Jaskier presses closer, a soft smile playing on his lips and Geralt runs his thumb over the back of his hand thoughtfully. 

"Next time," he breathes, "ask."


	2. Chapter 2

_Next time ask_. The words haunt every moment of Jaskier's waking life and those hours he's not awake are worse. 

He's been on edge since that night, all satisfaction from his encounter at the inn replaced with a new, aching need more pressing than before. His skin crawls every time he's near Geralt and the worst part is, he knows what he has to do, but he can't bring himself to do it. Much like before, he feels like he can't ask, only this time he's been given permission. More than that, he's been told to ask. And yet, he can't find the words because this is Geralt and even after more than a decade together, Jaskier struggles with basic eloquence with him around. 

It's been five days since they left the inn and Jaskier's been suffering alone. He spent the first day trying to figure it out; did Geralt really know what he was offering? If he did, did he mean it? Since then, Geralt has been more open with his affections, not to say that he's _affectionate_ , but he's not as withdrawn as he had been previously. Leading Jaskier to the only conclusion he could possibly come to - Geralt knew what he was offering and, most likely, was genuine in his offer. 

Which is really more than Jaskier can cope with at the moment because he doesn't know how to ask. Jaskier is good with words, his well-being depends on it, but whenever he's around Geralt words just... fail him. For some Gods awful reason that he hasn't been able to figure out, Geralt does something to him that just fucks with his speech centers. During their first meeting, he introduced himself as a man with bread in his pants. And if that's not bad enough, he's now struggling to find _anything_ to say to a man who once threatened to leave him behind if he didn't shut up. 

Things have been a little off in general, so the lack of conversation isn't even the weirdest part of all this. There's an unspoken tension in the air like they're on the precipice of something and can't quite make it over the edge. And Jaskier wants to fling himself off that edge, straight into Geralt's arms but, even with his permission, he doesn't know how. 

He'd be lying if he said he'd never thought about it; obviously he had, and Geralt had even caught him thinking about it. But in all those times, he'd imagined them falling together after a fight or a bad hunt, there was always _something_ that sparked the intimacy. He'd never considered having to _talk_ about it first, especially considering Geralt was not the type for conversation. So he waits and hopes that something else will happen or he'll think of something to say. 

Days pass without any change, but Jaskier has at least remembered how to hold a regular conversation with his companion. There's no mention of the night at the inn or of Geralt's offer, but they're talking at least. It gives him something to keep his mind off the burning of his skin and the ache to reach out and touch when Geralt is close. 

Days turn into weeks and while Jaskier finds respite in his admirers, as Geralt calls them, it's not what he wants. He realizes now that no amount of sex and affection can make up for what he's denying himself. And it's not even a denial, really; he could so easily walk upstairs and ask Geralt to fuck him and he would, apparently. Maybe the problem is that it feels like a transaction, it doesn't feel genuine. Or maybe the romantic in him just wants it to be spontaneous when it happens. 

They're on the road again when they come across a river. It's been days since they were last in town and Jaskier wants to crawl out of his skin for a whole other reason. He made a terrible decision to forgo a bath at the last inn and he can feel every tiny bit of dirt on his skin, in his hair. He's been absently picking soil out from under his nails all morning when Geralt stalks over to him. 

He hauls him up by his collar and continues on to the edge of the river. Jaskier isn't sure if he's supposed to follow or not, but he takes a tentative step forward and Geralt doesn't react so he assumes that means there's no risk in joining him. He's not paying much attention until he gets close, only a couple of yards from the riverbank, and he looks up and stops dead. Geralt has his shirt up above his head, arms still in the air and Jaskier has to force himself to look away to catch his breath. 

He lost track years ago of many times he's seen Geralt naked, but it's been months at this point and it's never been when Jaskier is so achingly desperate. He watches him now as he drops his shirt to the ground. Geralt's hands move to the laces of his trousers and heat sears up the back of Jaskier's neck. It feels like the first time he's seen him like this, even if he can recall dozens, possibly hundreds of times he and Geralt have bathed together. 

It was never a big deal before, but it is now. Geralt moves with practiced ease, ridding himself of the rest of his clothing, even while Jaskier is still fully dressed. He's beautiful and Jaskier is at a loss as to how he's allowed to witness this. It's not the first time, but it might be the first time he feels like he's _allowed_ to look and he takes in the sight before him, breathing shallowly. Geralt does look lovely without his clothes on.

Geralt looks back at him over his shoulder and Jaskier could spontaneously combust. Geralt quirks an eyebrow at him and Jaskier realizes how long he's been standing there staring.

"Are you going to join me?" Geralt asks and Jaskier nods dumbly. "Come on then." 

_Fuck_. He really should because he feels dirty and he hates feeling dirty. And because the cool water can only help to settle his arousal. He shifts uncomfortably and watches as Geralt slips into the water, submerging himself up to his stomach. Gods, Jaskier wants to touch him, to run his hands all over that incredible body and- He stops himself short as his cock gives a desperate twitch of approval. He needs to get into the water before he makes things worse for himself. 

Jaskier takes a few steps forward and manages to find the edge of the riverbank before divesting himself of his clothes. Geralt doesn't watch, but Jaskier feels as though he's under scrutiny nonetheless. The spring wind is cool on his skin and he's covered in goosebumps before he even dips his toes into the water. 

The river isn't as cold as he expected as the weather's been unusually warm for this time of year and Jaskier quickly slips in up past his waist. He keeps turned slightly away from Geralt, though the Witcher is preoccupied with actually bathing and doesn't seem interested in what Jaskier's body is or isn't doing. Currently, he seems to be struggling to remove the tie from his hair and Jaskier sighs after watching him struggle for a few moments. 

"Let me help," he says, pushing through the water to stand behind Geralt. Geralt's arms drop, settling comfortably at his sides and Jaskier reaches up to undo the tie. 

His fingers fumble on the worn leather, but it's hard to untie it while trying to keep himself away from Geralt as much as he can. His cock has betrayed him, refusing to settle even in the cool water and he can deal with that later so long as Geralt doesn't realize. But he's struggling. The tie is already wet and doesn't want to be removed, so other than cutting it, Jaskier is left with two options. He could tell Geralt to just leave it or he could suck it up and get closer so he can have proper access to Geralt's head. 

Jaskier sighs and curses under his breath. He's beginning to realize why Geralt is so fond of the word fuck. 

He slips up behind him so his chest is pressed against Geralt's back and he focuses all of his attention to his fingers and the damp leather beneath them. Geralt shifts his weight, rubbing against his already sensitive cock and Jaskier has to swallow back a moan, his fingers faltering. He's so hot he feels like the water should warm around him and there's no way Geralt doesn't know how he's feeling, though he remains unaffected. 

So Jaskier returns to his task, following the strand of leather around until he finds the ends again. It's under Geralt's hair, making it harder to access, though if he was on dry land or had his wits about him, it wouldn't be that difficult. But Geralt keeps _moving_ and every time he does it's like fire in his veins and Jaskier has to stop and collect himself. And start over. His only solace is that Geralt doesn't question that it's taking over ten minutes to untie a piece of leather from his hair. 

Geralt adjusts his stance for what must be the thirtieth time and Jaskier's already tenuous patience snaps. He grits his teeth as Geralt steps backward, inadvertently pressing Jaskier's cock between his cheeks. Jaskier shuts his eyes as a whimper escapes his lips, unable to keep it back any longer. Geralt doesn't tense up. He doesn't move away. To Jaskier's surprise, he doesn't do anything. 

Jaskier drops his head between Geralt's shoulderblades, letting out a weak, " _fuck_ " and that's when Geralt decides to move. It's just slight, if Jaskier wasn't pressed against him, he wouldn't even notice but for the ripples in the water. It's just a faint turn of his head as if to look over his shoulder. 

"Jaskier," he breathes. Jaskier swallows hard. 

"Geralt?"

"How long are you going to let this go on for?"

"My fingers are cold and the leather is-"

"I don't care about my hair."

"Right. Then- _oh_. Oh you mean-" he's at a loss for words. Again. Damn Geralt and this strange power he seems to have over him. 

"Yes."

Jaskier's stomach is in his throat, though even that does nothing to quell his ever-persistent erection. In a thousand years and a thousand more, he never anticipated that Geralt would be the one slowly pushing _him_ toward something. 

He doesn't usually mind being put on the spot, he's a great improviser, but with Geralt it's different. Because everything with Geralt is different. He doesn't know what to say, which has been his problem all along and if he could just find the words, he wouldn't be here right now, not knowing what to say. It's a terrible irony, especially for a poet. 

Geralt moves again, though this time at least, it doesn't seem fully intentional, not that that helps much. Jaskier moans softly, breathing heavily against Geralt's back. 

"Will you stop that," he huffs.

"And then what?"

Jaskier groans. "Surely you know. Surely, with all your witcher senses and your keen ability to show up exactly when I don't want you there- Surely, you know how badly I want you." He doesn't mean to say it, but there it is. Geralt has managed to pull it out of him, and it doesn't stop there. 

"I know you know I think about you. You told me yourself, so you must know everything. Or at least have guessed it by now? That I'd happily let you take me any day of the week. In a bed, in the grass, in the dirt-"

"At the edge of the river?"

"At the edge of the-" Jaskier exclaims before stopping himself. He lifts his head from Geralt's back, staring up at the back of the Witcher's head. "What?" 

Geralt turns slowly, keeping a little distance between them as he meets Jaskier's eyes. 

"Right now on the riverbank. Do you want me?" _Gods_ , he looks so earnest and Jaskier has no choice but to tell the truth. 

"Yes," he breathes. 

"Then ask."

"Gods, Geralt," he groans, "you're not going to make me say the words."

"You like words so much," Geralt says and Jaskier would swear he smirks just then, but his expression changes too quickly to know for sure. "Use them."

Jaskier shuts his eyes and takes a step forward, sliding his hands up Geralt's chest. If he could see him, he doesn't think he'd be able to get through this. As he leans in, Geralt moves to meet him and his cock presses into Jaskier's hip, thick and hard. Jaskier's eyes flash open and his head snaps back to look up at him. 

Geralt wants this just as much as he does. He's known, to some extent, since that night but he thought it was more of a hypothetical thing. If it came up again, he would be happy to help. He didn't consider that Geralt actively wants it, too. 

"Fuck me," he breathes and Geralt's lips pull up in a grin. 

"How long?"

"Huh?"

"How long have you been waiting to ask me that?"

Jaskier scrunches up his face, thinking. His chest feels tight because Geralt still hasn't really responded, but he counts the days. "I think," he starts, "three months, one week and four days."

"Jaskier," Geralt says, his voice a mix of sympathy and accusation. "You do know what I was offering, right?"

Jaskier tries to pull away, but Geralt's arms wind around his hips. It's frustrating because it makes it hard to think with Geralt wrapped around him and he wants to defend himself. 

"You tricked me," he accuses, but his voice comes out thin and breathy, not exactly the threat he was hoping for. 

"Hmm," is all Geralt has to say for himself. Which Jaskier decides is fine actually because he follows it up with a light kiss and nothing else in the world could possibly matter anymore.


	3. Chapter 3

Geralt pulls back after only a second and Jaskier's body protests, leaning in to follow him. He whines at the loss, but he doesn't even have time to consider how soft Geralt's lips are before they're pressed to his own again. Jaskier lets his hands drift, slipping over Geralt's hips to start, but as the kiss deepens and Geralt shifts his focus. He pressed kisses down Jaskier's jaw, moving lower down his neck and Jaskier’s hands slip against Geralt’s skin. 

He groans as Geralt's lips settle on a spot just under his jaw, stubble scratching at his skin. His hands slide up almost out of his control, pressing against Geralt's scalp and tangling in his hair. Geralt obliges him for a moment but his patience wears thin quickly and he pushes against him, walking him back. 

Jaskier moves with him, but he stumbles over a rock, jerking backward. Geralt doesn't miss a beat, hauling him up into his arms and continuing toward the grass. He drops onto his knees as he climbs onto the bank and Jaskier settles in his lap, straddling his thighs. He slips and Geralt pulls him back again, keeping him close. 

Geralt's mouth doesn't move from his skin, licking and sucking and nipping at his neck and Jaskier just shuts his eyes and lets him, taking in the scent and feel of him. It's not like he expected, quick and desperate and afraid of losing his chance; it's slow, calculated. He knows Geralt wants this as much as he does and despite the ache in his gut and the heat creeping up his spine, he doesn't want to rush. 

Geralt lays him down in the grass, pulling his knees up under him and Jaskier's still got his legs around his waist. It doesn't last for long before Geralt shifts him, pressing in close and lifting Jaskier's legs over his shoulders. It's hard to breathe with his thighs and Geralt's chest pressed against him, but he loves being able to wrap around him like this. Geralt just pushes further, moving against him, and when Geralt's cock presses against his ass, Jaskier groans. 

He rocks against him, sliding his cock over Jaskier's hole and Jaskier wants him so badly he can barely stand it. It's been months that Geralt has been silently letting him suffer and Jaskier thinks he's waited long enough. 

" _Please_ ," he whines and Geralt's lips brush against his jaw, moving up to nip at his earlobe. 

"It hasn't been easy for me, either," he breathes and Jaskier hesitates for a moment, trying to figure out how much he's said out loud.

"What do you mean? You could have stopped this any time. I think you liked watching me suffer."

"I don't fuck my friends, Jaskier. I wanted to make sure you were serious." 

_Fuck_. He's breathless and Jaskier's not sure if it's the words himself or just the sound of his voice that affects him. He wants to kiss him senseless, press him into the grass and not let him up until they're both too exhausted to move. But Geralt is cautious with his emotions and Jaskier doesn't want to push too hard. 

"But you thought of me?" he asks.

"Yes."

"Oh, fuck. Penny for your thoughts?"

"You want me to describe it to you?" Geralt pulls up, something not quite like a frown marring his face.

"Yes. Tell me how you want me." 

He follows Geralt, pushing off the grass to kiss him and Geralt sits back. Jaskier unfolds himself, rolling over as Geralt sprawls next to him on the grass. He winds one arm around Geralt's neck and pulls him close so Geralt is practically on top of him again. Warm fingers slip down his chest and Jaskier hums. 

"I listened to you sometimes," Geralt admits, low and husky in his ear. His fingers slip down, wrapping lightly around the base of Jaskier's cock and pulling up to the head. "On your own, sometimes with others."

"Thought that- thought it was _unsettling_."

"I didn't like hearing you get fucked."

"But the women were okay?" he looks up at him, lifting an eyebrow, but the expression is wiped from his face with a quick flick of Geralt's wrist. " _Oh fuck_ -"

"They can offer you something I can't."

"That's not... entirely true," Jaskier pants. He pulls Geralt close enough that he can feel his breath against his lips. "You were jealous."

"No."

"No, you were." Geralt's fingers tighten around his cock and Jaskier's hips jerk into the touch, pushing through Geralt's fist. He groans and presses his forehead into Geralt's shoulder. "You wanted to be the one- didn't you?" Geralt gives him a quick squeeze in warning, but Jaskier doesn't shut up. 

The idea of Geralt getting jealous over him is more arousing than anything else he can think of and it's not something he's going to stop thinking about any time soon. But Geralt has different opinions, apparently, and he kisses him hard, effectively distracting Jaskier long enough to silence him. 

He licks into his mouth and Jaskier slips one hand into his hair, the other digging into the dense grass at his hip. Geralt is good with his mouth, better with his hands, and by the time he pulls back again, Jaskier is breathless. 

"You don't have to be jealous," he pants, "I already told you I'm yours. All you have to do is ask." He winks and Geralt moves faster than he's seen him, hauling him up and pulling him into his lap. 

"What's it going to take to shut you up?" he asks, but his voice falters as Jaskier rolls his hips. 

"Fuck me." 

Geralt kisses him again then, hard and desperate. He leans against him, pressing Jaskier back even as one of his hands settles on his lower back. Jaskier rocks against him, pressing his cock into the flesh of Geralt's stomach and when Geralt's fingers slip down between his cheek, he drops his head and whimpers against his shoulder. 

" _Please_ ," he breathes and Geralt pushes lower, hovering just above him. Jaskier kisses his neck and shoulders and Geralt's hands retreat, sliding into place on his hip so he can maneuver him. 

Geralt rolls Jaskier's hips against his own, pressing up into each thrust with a soft sigh. He sounds incredible and Jaskier wants to hear more, is determined to hear more of him. When he looks up at him, Geralt's eyes are pinched shut, his lips parted just so and Jaskier can barely stand to look at him, he looks so good like this. 

"I want you," he mumbles and Geralt dips in and kisses him again as he reaches for his shirt in the pile of discarded clothing. When he comes back, he's holding a small bottle of oil and Jaskier huffs against his skin. 

"Don't tell me you've been carrying that around since that night." Geralt huffs a soft laugh and presses his lips against Jaskier's ear. 

"I told you to ask."

Geralt pops the cork with his teeth and Jaskier watches, entranced and impatient as he slicks his fingers with the oil and sets it aside. He traces a cool line down Jaskier's spine, pressing back between his cheeks and Jaskier arches against his chest, pressing his lips against Geralt's neck. When he presses against his hole, Jaskier whines and pushes back against him, but Geralt's hold on him is strong and he doesn't have much space to move. 

His cock is trapped between them, pinned against Geralt's and every little movement pushes them together. It drives him wild and Jaskier's fingernails dig into Geralt's back, holding him firmly against him. As Geralt's finger slide into him, Jaskier rolls his hips, pushing to get him deeper. The angle is all wrong for it, but Jaskier is desperate and he can feel Geralt's cock against him; it's going to take a lot more than one finger to prep him and he's impatient. 

" _Geralt_ ," he whines and one big, hot hand tugs his head back and Jaskier's eyes drop shut as Geralt's mouth crashes against his own. The knowledge that Geralt wants this just as badly as he does, has waited just as long, makes Jaskier's head spin and he groans against his lips as Geralt's hips jerk to meet him. 

By the time Geralt gets three fingers in him, Jaskier's skin is slick with sweat and the sound of his breath alone could draw all sorts of unwanted attention. He rocks back onto Geralt, desperately pleading him to push deeper, to fuck him properly, but the position isn't conducive to _deeper_ and _properly_. Geralt kisses his neck, his breath hot and wet against Jaskier's skin and he bends over him, kissing a line down his chest as he lays him back against the grass. 

"What are you-" Jaskier asks, but the words die on his tongue as Geralt pushes deeper, stretching Jaskier around his fingers. "Hnngh," he moans, crossing one arm over his face. 

Geralt is attentive and deliberate with his thrusts, but Jaskier can feel his impatience in every movement and he loves it. He wraps his legs around Geralt's waist, using him as leverage to fuck himself on his fingers and Geralt lets him, sliding his free hand up to hold Jaskier's other hip. 

"Gods, Geralt, please." He's expecting to be shushed, for Geralt to tell him to be patient, but he does nothing of the sort. Instead, he pulls out and slides both arms under Jaskier's back, pulling him up and adjusting him in his lap. 

His cock slides against Jaskier's hole and he rolls his hips back, pressing against him. Geralt's eyes drop shut as Jaskier grinds back against him slipping his hands down his sides. His fingers grip just a little too hard, his chest heaves just a little too quickly and Geralt is so incredibly beautiful that Jaskier could get off just watching him like this. He presses his face into Geralt's neck, pressing quick, loving kisses into his skin and huffing against him. He's breathless already and Geralt isn't even inside him, yet. 

"Geralt," he breathes, pressing his lips up the line of his neck. He moves up along the line of his jaw and up behind his ear. "I want you. _Now_." 

The resulting groan he gets in response is low and rumbling and Jaskier can feel it through him. Geralt lifts him with one arm and Jaskier rises with him, pressing his own cock into Geralt's chest and the Witcher shifts under him. 

When Geralt loosens his grip, Jaskier sits back, guided by Geralt's hands on his hips. He's about to complain about being babied, but Geralt's cockhead presses against him and Jaskier's breath pulls from his lungs. When he breaches him, Jaskier shudders, curling his fingers around Geralt's shoulders, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head. 

"What?" Geralt asks, "nothing to say?"

" _Fuck_ ," he whimpers and Geralt hums, bumping Jaskier's nose as he kisses him again. Jaskier sinks lower and Geralt breathes heavily against his lips. Jaskier can hear every little hitch of his breath and he does his best to draw out those little sounds, to pull those oh-so-rare moans from Geralt's chest. 

He lifts up again before he's even fully seated and Gerlt's fingers dig into his hips pleasingly. Jaskier winds his arms loosely around Geralt's neck and slides onto him again, pushing deeper this time and it's all he can do to keep his breath steady. Geralt isn't fooled and all it takes is one slow roll of his hips to have Jaskier groaning into his hair. 

" _Gods_ ," he breathes and he tangles his fingers into Geralt's hair, rocking his hips back onto him. 

Geralt lets him take the lead but he winds his hips around Jaskier's hips pressing him so close that Jaskier's cock presses into his stomach. With every thrust, every slight roll of his hips, his cock slides against Geralt's firm stomach and Jaskier's legs shake with the intensity of it. 

He's known for being an incredible lover, welcomed into the beds of the noble and wealthy, and here he is on the edge of the river falling to pieces in the lap of a Witcher. He wants to be better for Geralt, to show him how good it can be, but Geralt is huge and it's been so damn _long_. 

"I'm sorry," he huffs, breathless as he drops back. Geralt's cock presses deep, sliding against that bundle of nerves and Jaskier whimpers against him, keeping himself upright by sheer force of will. He shifts, rocking his hips to keep Geralt right where he is, blinking as the pleasure flows through him. 

" _Geralt_ ," he breathes, " _oh, fuck, Geralt_ -" He's breathless and overwhelmed and he wants to keep going but he's so fucking close. Geralt presses a hand up his spine, curling around the back of his neck so Jaskier faces him. There's so much unsaid in that couple of seconds, but Jaskier doesn't have time to focus on any of that before his body tenses and he spills between them. 

His eyes clench shut and Geralt kisses him hard, supporting his entire weight as he continues rocking into him. Each thrust hits just a little better than the last and Jaskier has to wonder if anything again will ever compare to fucking Geralt. Probably not. 

When Geralt comes, he presses his forehead against Jaskier's shoulder, holding him close and Jaskier works him through it, rolling his hips slowly, even as Geralt moans against him. It's the most incredible sound Jaskier has ever heard and he intends to get those sounds out of him as often as possible. 

Jaskier slumps against him, listening to the sound of Geralt's increased heartbeat and he shuts his eyes, pressing his lips against whatever bit of skin he can reach. Geralt hauls him up and kisses him properly, soft and surprisingly sweet as Jaskier wraps a little tighter around him. 

"So," he asks when Geralt withdraws, "friends?"

Geralt huffs a soft laugh, pressing their foreheads together. " _Idiot_ ," he mumbles, still smiling. He lifts Jaskier off his cock and lifts him as he rises to his feet. Jaskier's legs waver a little under him, but as he follows Geralt into the water, admiring the view of him from behind, he feels incredible. 

"So," he starts again and Geralt turns to him, lifting an eyebrow in his direction. "If we were to- y'know, if it came up would you- I mean if it wasn't already-" Geralt smirks as he turns around again. 

"Just don't wait three months next time."


End file.
